The old home town looks the same as I step down
from the train, And there to meet me is my Mama and
my Papa. Down the road I look and there comes Mary
hair of gold and lips like cherries. It's good to
touch the green, green grass of home.

The old house is still standing tho' the paint is
cracked and dry, And there's the old oak tree
that I used to play on. Down the lane I walk with
my sweet Mary, hair of gold and lips like
cherries. It's good to touch the green, green
grass of home. Yes, they'll all come to meet me,
arms reaching, smiling sweetly. It's good to touch
the green, green grass of home.

Then I awake and look around me, to the four grey
wall that surround me And then I realize that I
was only dreaming. There's a guard and sad old
padre Arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak. Again I
touch the green, green grass of home. Yes, they'll
all meet together in the shade of that old oak
tree As we neath indeed the green, green grass of
home.

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